


To Hell and Back

by nyxxstay



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Deal with a Devil, Demons, Devils, Established Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Fights, Fluff and Angst, Going to Hell, Happy Ending, Hell, Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jisung does NOT have a good time in hell, Jisung goes to hell, Jisung is in love, Lee Minho | Lee Know in Love, M/M, Minor Violence, Protective Minho, Psychological Torture, Sad Han Jisung | Han, Soul Selling, Witches, and I am very single, but no gore, do I write anything but minsung at this point?, fair warning, internalized witchphobia?, ladies and gentlemen they're gay, lots of magic, minho and jisung are so in love, minho is a witch, sigh, spoiler lol jeongin is psychic, the boys go after him, there is no pictured or described physical torture, this is inspired by Hellevator, why are my tags always chaotic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27432124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxxstay/pseuds/nyxxstay
Summary: Deals with devils never end well, and now Jisung was faced with a choice:Him, or his friends.But when Minho and the group learns that Jisung sacrificed his soul for their sake, they follow him to Hell, willing to risk it all to bring their 8th member back home.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59
Collections: STRAY KIDS MV FICFEST





	1. Hellevator

**Author's Note:**

> Written for SKZ MV Fest (twitter.com/skzmvfest); Inspired by Stray Kids' Hellevator MV (youtu.be/AdfIfFGCqgo)

_ Three years ago _

The night had been normal, Jisung’s friends scattered about his living room, opened, half finished snacks littering the floor as the group slept peacefully. Their movie was still playing on the tiny tv Jisung had bought at a garage sale, but it was well past their normal sleeping hours, so no one was awake to finish it. Jisung was curled into Chan’s side on the floor, Minho draping an arm over the younger’s waist on his other side, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Jeongin somehow found a way for all three of them to squish onto the tiny couch, all while Felix and Changbin snored peacefully at their feet.

It was like any other movie night shared among the best friends, but one that was prematurely ruined by the sound of the deafening fire alarm and the choking smell of smoke.

Jisung awoke with a start, the rest of his friends also startling awake at the blaring alarm, coughing and wheezing as the smoke drifted into the room. There wasn’t much communication needed as the group staggered out of the apartment and into the hallway, following Jisung to the stairwell.

One thing Jisung could remember clearly about that night was how fast it spread, how one second there was only a bit of smoke and flashing lights, and the next the raging flames were all around them, scalding heat making them sweat profusely as they ran down the 6 flights of stairs. It was a blur, filled with choked coughs and shouts of fear. All Jisung could think about was getting out, and as he finally came to the door leading to the first floor, he sprinted to safety, immediately collapsing to the pavement as he heaved for fresh air.

It was only then that he realized he was alone.

The blonde turns around in a panic, seeing his apartment building engulfed in flames, and his friends missing. His mind goes blank, panic setting in as he sprints back into the blaze, screaming over the roar of the fire, skin burning from the blistering heat, debris falling all around him. He was choking on smoke, lightheaded from lack of oxygen, but he refused to give up, refused to leave his friends behind when they could be burned alive if he didn’t find them. He should’ve checked to make sure they were behind him, should’ve grabbed onto them so they wouldn’t get lost. This was his fault, all his fault.

He reached the door to the stairwell, the scalding metal of the handle burning his hand as he pulled it open, preparing to run back up the six flights if he had to, when a firm, gloved hand pulled him back. A firefighter.

He pleaded as they pulled him outside, hysterically shouting about how his friends were still inside and that he had to find them, but they wouldn’t let him go back in, instead seating him on the curb some meters away, explaining that it was too dangerous for him to be in there, and promising to find the others for him. 

He’s trembling, sobbing into his hands, face covered in soot, pleading for every first responder that passes him to find his friends, but when he overhears the fire chief mention to another firefighter that the blaze had consumed the building too fast, that there was no stopping it and they couldn’t risk sending people in anymore, Jisung lost all hope. He had lost them, and if he hadn’t been so reckless, so self centered in his desperation to get outside, they would’ve made it out with him. Now, they were trapped or lost somewhere in the armageddon-like flames, dead, or dying because of him. If only he had been more responsible, if only he had thought to think about anyone other than himself.

And in those moments of debilitating grief, a voice spoke to him, gentle and soft.

_ “Do you want your friends to be saved?” _

“Y-Yes,” he choked out, unsure if the voice was real or a figment of his imagination.

_ “What if I could save them? What would you give me?” _

“Anything, anything at all…”

_ “Even your soul?” _

Jisung nodded fervently, his tears still blurring his vision. “Yes, yes even my soul, i-if it means they make it out safely.”

_ “Then it’s a deal.” _

The voice goes silent, and Jisung begins to really think he had lost his mind, when he suddenly hears shouting from behind him, and whirls around to see firefighters sprinting back into the building. Mere seconds later, he sees them helping a group of boys outside.

His friends.

They were covered in ash and soot, coughing and unbalanced as they clung to one another, but it didn’t matter. Jisung wasted no time in sprinting towards them, collapsing into their arms as he sobbed in relief and his apartment building continued to collapse behind them. They were safe, that’s all that mattered.

_ Present day _

Jisung sighs with a smile, watching the road carefully as his phone, turned to speakerphone, rings in his lap. It had been a long day of work, chugging out as many songs as he could while working with the idols of the company. He loved being a lyricist, and was grateful that he had become well known for his talent at the company, but sometimes it was tiring when he was so sought after. He couldn’t wait to relax.

_ “Hey babe!” _ Jisung could hear the smile in his boyfriend’s voice over the phone.

“Hey Min, how was your day?” Jisung asked, ruffling his dark hair and brushing it from his eyes.

_ “Same old, same old. What about you?” _

“Long,” Jisung laughed. “And very tiring. We still meeting everyone at the basketball courts?”

_ “Of course,” _ Minho responded.  _ “As long as you’re still up for it, of course.” _

“It’s been weeks since we’ve all been together. Of course I’m still up for it!”

_ “Okay, good! That means I get to kick your ass at basketball.” _

“Babe, we both know you are absolutely shit at any game that has to do with balls.” They both laughed at that.

_ “Yeah, whatever. How far away are you?” _

Jisung shrugged, despite knowing Minho couldn’t see him. “About 15 minutes.”

_ “Okay, I’ll see you soon. Drive safe!” _

“I will. Love you.”

_ “Love you too!” _

The call ended, and Jisung smiled to himself as he maneuvered his car through the packed streets, excited to see his friends again, and, of course, Minho. They’d been dating for a little over two years now, after they both finally got the guts to just admit they were absolutely head over heels for each other. They saw each other pretty much every day anyway, but every time gave Jisung the butterflies that he so fondly remembered from their first date. He was so lucky to have Minho in his life.

It wasn’t long before he had pulled into the parking lot, turning off his car and stepping out into the warm evening air. The sky was already dark, but no stars could be seen thanks to the light pollution, though that didn’t bother Jisung much. His smile instantly grew ten times wider when his boyfriend practically leaped into his arms, planting a quick and affectionate kiss to his lips.

“Ew!” Jisung laughed as he heard Seungmin whine from the court in front of them.

“Dude, they’ve been together for 2 years now. You act like this isn’t normal,” Changbin laughed from his seat on the bench. 

“It’s still gross. And gay.”

“Seungminnie, you are literally a flaming homosexual,” Minho responded as he laced his fingers with Jisung’s, leading him to the basketball court.

“Yeah but you don’t see me flaunting it everywhere,” their friend laughed.

“If you were in a relationship I’m pretty sure you’d be worse than them,” Chan clapped Seungmin on the back with a smile, the basketball held in his other hand.

Seungmin pouted. “Thanks for reminding me I’m single.”

Minho guided Jisung to the bench beside the court, where a bag of takeout was placed. “I got you dinner since I figured you hadn’t eaten yet,” Minho smiled, beginning to untie the bag.

Jisung sighed. “You know me way too well.”

“It’s chinese takeout,” Jeongin stated. “And that smaller container is a slice of cheesecake from the bakery.”

Minho tilted his head at the youngest. “I don’t recall telling anyone what I got.”

Jeongin smiled his mischievous grin. “Lucky guess.”

Felix and Hyunjin arrived shortly later, and soon enough the group was playing basketball, shouting and teasing each other while also making small talk about their lives in between. It was simple, fun. It reminded Jisung of how easy everything was when they were still in school, when they would spend hours at the courts talking and laughing with one another, just enjoying each other’s company. He missed those days, but he couldn’t exactly complain about where he’d ended up. After all, he was now madly in love with  _ the  _ Lee Minho, and had a stable job at a famous entertainment company, making good money, and living a decently easy life. He couldn’t ask for much else.

Eventually, Jisung decided to take a break, sitting down on the bench to finish the cheesecake Minho had bought him, while watching said person horribly fail at a clear shot at the hoop. He laughed, shoveling down the last of the tasty treat as Minho’s ears began to turn red.

And then he heard it, like something out of a haunting nightmare. A voice, that  _ same voice  _ from years ago, echoing in his head.

_ “Hello Jisung.” _

Jisung froze, his heart pumping wildly in his chest. He couldn’t possibly be hearing it, he had to be imagining it, right?

_ “Did you think I forgot about our little deal?” _

Jisung shook his head, mumbling back a response quiet enough for no one else to hear. “Y-you’re not real. You’re just an auditory hallucination, like that night three years ago. My brain made you up because of the stress I was under during the fire.” He wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself, or the voice.

The voice laughed, a dark, menacing laugh that sent chills down Jisung’s spine. _ “Oh, believe me Jisung, I am very much real. And three years ago tonight, you sold me your soul.” _

Jisung goes pale. “That’s not true,” he stuttered out. “It wasn’t a serious deal, my friends were fine!”

_ “But it is true. You wanted your friends safe in exchange for your soul, and I gave you that. And now, it’s time to uphold your end of the bargain.” _

“No.” Jisung wasn’t sure what this voice wanted, wasn’t even sure if it was real, but he’d seen enough movies to know that selling your soul never ended well.

_ “If you don’t hold up your end of the deal, then I’m afraid I can’t hold up my end either.” _

“What?!” Jisung exclaimed, doing his best to keep his voice quiet as his friends continued to shout to one another on the court in front of him, paying no mind to the conversation Jisung was having with a voice in his head. “You can’t do that!”

_ “Oh, but I very much can. It would be such a shame for your dear friends to get killed in a driveby shooting, or perhaps run over by a car. The way your precious Minho would scream your name in agony as he sat trapped behind his apartment door, the room ablaze around him and unable to escape the fire that would burn him alive.” _

Jisung’s heart is racing now, blood rushing in his ears as he looks up at his friends, fear so much like that night threatening to swallow him whole. Who was this voice? Why did they want his soul? Could they really hurt his friends? He pictured what the voice had described, Minho trapped in a burning room, flames raging around him, screaming for Jisung to help him as he was burned and killed. The thought made Jisung want to sob. He couldn’t risk it.

“Okay, okay! I’ll do it, just-just don’t hurt them, please….”

“ _ Good _ .” Jisung swore he could hear the sinister smile through the voice.  _ “A location has been sent to your phone. Be there before this time tomorrow. Oh, and you might want to say your goodbyes, because you won’t be seeing your friends again.” _

Jisung felt tears stinging his eyes, but forced them back. “Can I… Can I just have a little more time with them?”

_ “You’ve had your time. Be there, or else your friends won’t be alive much longer.” _

And with those final words, the presence disappeared, leaving Jisung pale and nearly shaking on the bench, mind swimming with fear. He’s not sure how long he stared into space before a presence came to stand in front of him, and Jisung looked up into the concerned gaze of his boyfriend.

“You okay?” Minho frowned, clearly noticing how spaced out and probably pale Jisung had become in the last several minutes.

Jisung swallowed his fear. He can’t tell any of them what had happened. “I’m fine,” he lied.

Minho sighed with a nod, obviously not believing the younger, but deciding not to press the issue. Instead, Minho sits down beside Jisung, joining their hands on his lap and rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur, and though Jisung felt incredibly guilty about not taking the chance to enjoy what time he had remaining with his friends, he knew he emotionally couldn’t handle it. It took everything he had to not break down, so he focused on Minho's soft hands, his warm body heat, his reassuring smile, anything to distract him from the shadow that was looming over his heart. Eventually, the two begin the journey home, saying goodnight to their friends as they get into Jisung’s car, Minho in the driver’s seat this time.

“Can I stay at your place tonight?” Jisung asks quietly as they pull out of the parking lot, and Minho almost laughed, thinking his boyfriend was being suggestive.

Until he noticed the desperation in Jisung’s gaze.

“Of course, baby,” Minho responds, reaching over and taking Jisung’s hand in his, He could never say no to Jisung.

The drive is quiet as they head to Minho’s apartment, and soon enough, they’re in pjs and curled up on the couch, a lighthearted movie flipped on as Minho pulled his boyfriend into his side, fingers gently tracing intricate patterns on Jisung’s hip. Jisung knew Minho had the best intentions, that he was only trying to cheer him up or distract him, but if he was being honest, he was exhausted, and he just wanted to cry.

Eventually noticing Jisung’s lack of attention towards the movie, Minho paused it, looking over at the brunette in his arms. 

“Sung, are you sure everything’s okay?” He asked gently.

Jisung nodded. “I’m fine.” He didn’t mean for his voice to come out so tense.

Minho sighed, fully turning to face his boyfriend. “Jisung, I have known you for many years, and I’m your boyfriend. I know when something’s up, and I can tell when you’re lying. You know you can talk to me, right? I’m always here for you; you can tell me anything.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Ji-”

“For fucks sake, Minho, I’m fine! I don’t need you worrying about me!” Jisung didn’t mean to snap, he didn’t mean to get angry when Minho was only trying to look out for him, but he was already emotionally drawn thin, and his desperation to hide the truth turned into anger that Minho could see right through him.

Minho’s eyes widened, and Jisung quickly rose from the couch, mumbling something about needing to pee before shutting himself in the bathroom, the flickering yellow light illuminating his reflection in the mirror. Honestly, he looked like hell. His eyes were dark, a permanently frown etched into his brow, skin pale and almost sickly looking. That voice, whatever it was, had truly terrified him. He tried to tell himself that it was only his imagination, but the location pinged on his cellphone told him otherwise, told him that something really had contacted him, and he’d sold his soul to them.

Without realizing it, tears finally began to slip from his eyes, quiet sobs choking from his throat as he gripped the edge of the sink, doing his best to keep himself grounded. He didn’t want to die, didn’t want to leave his friend or leave Minho, but he didn’t see another option, because if he refused, he would lose them all.

A quiet knock came at the door, and Jisung did his best to quiet himself as his boyfriend spoke to him from the other side.

“Jisungie, I’ll be waiting for you in bed, okay?” After not receiving an answer, Jisung heard the older walk away towards the bedroom, and he started to cry even harder.

What was he even doing? It was his last night with the man he loved, and he was locked in the bathroom, snapping at him and then avoiding him. He should’ve been out there, holding onto Minho like he’d never get to again, because he  _ wouldn’t _ . He shouldn’t be taking this out on him, shouldn’t be punishing him for his own mistakes, and definitely shouldn’t be wasting his last chance to be with him.

Jisung finally sucks it up, wiping his tears before stepping out of the bathroom and walking to the bedroom. The apartment was dark now, but Jisung could see Minho’s form in the dim light peeking in from the streetlights outside the curtains. Jisung took a deep breath and crawled under the comforter, curling up beside the older. He hadn’t expected Minho to still be awake, and nearly startled as the older turned towards him, a gentle hand cupping Jisung’s face.

“Oh baby, you’ve been crying, haven’t you?” Minho whispered gently.

Jisung nodded, biting his lip as another tear rolled down his cheek and into the pillow beneath him. Minho wasted no time in pulling his boyfriend to his chest, hugging him close as he continued to cry silently. “You can tell me what’s going on whenever you’re ready, okay? If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, I’ll still be here to hold you and kiss you, and make all your fears go away. I’ll hold you through it, no matter what.”

“I love you,” Jisung mumbled, crying into Minho’s shirt. Minho smiled and placed a kiss atop Jisung’s head.

“I love you too.”

Jisung fell asleep crying into Minho’s warm embrace.

  
  


Jisung woke up far too early the next morning, but once he opened his eyes to see the rising sun bathing the bedroom in a warm glow, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. His head rest atop Minho’s chest, the older’s hair ruffled and messy on the pillow as his breath came in slow, even huffs. He looked as beautiful as he always did, and the sight made Jisung smile.

He knew though that Minho would be waking soon, and he really didn’t want to have a conversation about the night before, not because he didn’t want to apologize, but because he didn’t want to risk spilling the truth about what was happening and dragging Minho into the problem. No, he needed to leave before that would become a risk, for Minho’s sake.

He carefully crawled out of bed, quietly changing into one of the spare sets of clothes he kept at his boyfriend’s apartment. He stared at Minho’s sleeping form for a long moment, quickly deciding to scrawl down a goodbye note in place of waking him and risking worrying the older, before placing it on the bedside table. Jisung’s eyes watered as he stood in the doorway, wishing he could just crawl back into bed and kiss Minho into oblivion, but he knew that wasn’t an option now.

Taking a shaky breath, he turned and left the apartment, taking his car and leaving town.

The location sent to his phone was quite literally in the middle of nowhere, a couple hours out of town with no civilization in sight. Jisung was wondering if perhaps he was being led to some place to get murdered, but then realized that that was honestly probably the case. 

He pulled up outside of an abandoned structure, nothing but grassy fields as far as he could see. He approached it cautiously, eyes watching the shadows as though they might jump out and attack him. The place was old, and clearly long abandoned based on the graffiti tags marking the walls. He supposed it might’ve once been some sort of auditorium, or maybe an old mall based on the giant circular skylight. His boots crunched on gravel and broken glass as he walked inside, wondering what he was supposed to do.

He had barely come to a stop inside the structure when his phone dinged, a single message from an unknown number present on the screen.

_ Elevator _ .

Jisung glanced around in confusion, before his gaze settled on an old, red, metal elevator across from him. He walked towards it slowly. It didn’t seem to be significant in any particular way, perhaps a little outdated if anything. He pulled the metal gate back, and nearly jumped out of his skin as the light inside turned on. Jisung swallowed before stepping inside, eyes wide as though the old machine were going to swallow him.

The inside was red, just like the outside, with peeling paint revealing some rusting underneath. The floor buttons, however, only gave one option, and the label frightened Jisung a tad more than he already was.

This was it. He couldn’t turn back. He made this deal, and now it was time to pay up.

He hoped his friends would be okay without him.

With one last deep breath, Jisung closed the gate, and pressed the button labeled ‘Hell.’


	2. Missing

Minho woke up slowly, vision and mid groggy from sleep as the sun blasted his eyes from the window. The clock on his desk told him it was late morning by now, nearing lunch even, but he didn’t really care. It was a Saturday after all, and he wanted to spend the morning cuddling with his boyfriend.

He reached over to Jisung’s side, only to find the bed cold and empty. Minho frowned a bit, sitting up and rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. Sure enough, Jisung was no longer in bed. 

Minho sighed, crawling out of his warm cocoon and slipping on a hoodie to keep himself warm as he padded out into the hall. The bathroom door was closed, so he figured Jisung was probably taking a shower, and decided to make breakfast for them.

As he pulled out some leftover rice to cook up with tofu and eggs, his mind wandered to the night before, to how Jisung had been acting. The two had been together for over two years now, and it was unlike the younger to hide things from him, especially something that seemed to be causing so much distress. Minho would keep his word and wouldn’t pressure Jisung into telling him, but he couldn’t shake the worry. The look in Jisung’s eyes was something he hadn’t seen in a very long time, something akin to fear or panic. Minho didn’t like seeing him like that, and hoped he could ease his worries.

Minho wondered if that was perhaps why Jisung had awoken so early. Jisung loved to sleep in, and it was practically unheard of for him to rise before Minho, but maybe the events of the night before caused him to wake from anxiety or more fear, and that’s why he decided to take a shower, to refresh and start new.

Minho dished breakfast into a couple bowls, placing them on the table for the two to enjoy together. It had been about 20 minutes by now, and Minho still hadn’t seen the younger come out of the bathroom, so he wandered over, knocking gently.

“I made breakfast for us, baby,” he called gently.

No response.

“Ji? Look, if you’re still upset from last night, please don’t be, okay? I’m sorry for pushing you, and I swear I won’t ask about it anymore, but could you please come out? I miss seeing your pretty face.”

Still, there was only silence. Minho frowned.

“Jisung?” He was worried now, reaching for the door handle instinctively. “Baby, are you okay?”

The door swung open, only to find the bathroom empty, no Jisung in sight.

Minho’s heart leapt into his throat involuntarily. Had his grogginess played tricks on him this morning? Maybe he had missed Jisung, still curled up in bed. A frown etched into his features, Minho went back to the bedroom, only to be met with immediate panic as he found it also empty. Jisung never left without saying goodbye, even when they fought. Where had he gone?

Minho was just about to run to the kitchen for his phone when his eyes drifted to a piece of paper resting on the bedside table, one that hadn’t been there last night and that he’d clearly missed when waking up. He practically ran across the room, picking up the paper scrawled in his boyfriend’s handwriting and reading it once, twice, three times as he tried to comprehend its’ message.

_ \- Min _

_ I’m sorry for not waking you for a proper goodbye, but I knew you’d have too many questions, and I can never hide the truth from you for very long. I didn’t want to risk the last time we spoke being a fight, so I’m leaving this note instead. _

_ I’m leaving, and I won’t be coming back. I don’t mean that as in I’m leaving you specifically, because god I’d be a fool to leave someone as perfect as you, but rather I mean that I’m leaving everyone and everything. Permanently. I’m sorry. _

_ And before you go thinking that you did something wrong, or maybe this was about our fight last night or anything: it isn’t. Minho, I promise you, you have been nothing but the greatest and kindest boyfriend to me. I love you more than anything in the world, and I wish more than anything that I could spend the rest of my life by your side. But I’m out of time now; this is goodbye. _

_ Please don’t try to find me. I know you probably have a lot of questions for me, and I’m sorry I can’t answer them for you, but this is for the best. Please don’t look for me. I’ll be well gone by the time you wake up, and there’s nothing you can do to change this. _

_ I love you, so, so much. You deserve the world, so promise me you’ll be happy, okay? Be happy for me, live well. I hope that we meet in another life. _

_ All my love, _

_ your Jisungie _

Minho felt numb as the note fell to the floor, and without really processing it, he was sprinting to the kitchen, grabbing his phone and then bolting out the front door, skipping steps as he descended the stairwell to the garage. He sent texts first, hoping that maybe this was some cruel joke, but after mere seconds he became impatient, resorting to calling the younger, only to go straight to voicemail. He hated that hearing the cheery _ “Hi, this is Jisung!”  _ on the end of the line made his heart ache in fear and pain. He hated even more that seeing the empty parking space where Jisung normally parked made tears spring to his eyes.

This was real. Jisung was gone. Missing. He’d left.

He knew Jisung said not to look for him, but Minho couldn’t help the crippling fear creeping up on him, couldn’t help that he felt something very wrong was going on, that the boy he loved was in danger.

Minho was doing everything to suppress the terrified sobs trying to burst their way forth as he clicked Chan’s contact, praying to anyone that might listen that Chan might know what was happening.

_ “Hey Min, what’s up?” _

“Have you seen Jisung?” Minho tried to hide the panic in his voice, but knew he had ultimately failed when Chan responded with a lot more seriousness than he’d greeted him with.

_ “Uh, no, I haven’t. Is everything okay?” _

“He’s gone, Chan! Jisung’s gone!” Now he was definitely crying.

_ “Woah, woah, woah. Breathe, Minho, breathe. What do you mean gone? Did something happen?” _

“I-I don’t know! I woke up and he wasn’t in bed so I thought he was showering but he wasn’t, and then I found a note that said he was leaving forever and he said not to look for him, and his phone is off and his car is gone and I don’t know where he is, I’m just-”

“ _ Minho _ ,” Chan cut his younger friend off gently. _ “Please try to take deep breaths, okay? I’m sure he’s alright, this is probably just some big misunderstanding. Let’s call the others and see if they’ve heard from him, and I’ll run over to his place to see if he’s there. Don’t lose hope yet, alright? Everything will be okay.” _

Minho obliged reluctantly, and as he headed back up the stairs, he began calling the others, doing his best to not break down in hysterics as he had with Chan. But, just as he suspected, no one had heard anything since they’d seen him last night, and when a text arrived from Chan saying that Jisung wasn’t home either, Minho could only shakily put down his phone and cry into his hands.

He felt helpless. Whatever was going on, based on the note, Jisung felt that he couldn’t tell him. Had he done something wrong for the younger not to trust him? Was he still angry at him for pressuring him the night before? Why couldn’t Jisung tell him, and why was he leaving? Had this been what was one Jisung’s mind last night? If so, why did he look so afraid?

Too many questions, and no answers.

It wasn’t long before a knock came at his door, and he had to immediately squash the sliver of hope that it was Jisung, reminding himself that it was only his friends. They had decided to meet up to try to figure out where Jisung had gone and what they could do to find him, since now that they knew he was missing, all of them were severely worried.

As soon as Minho opened the door, he was pulled into a tight embrace by Chan, the older clearly realizing that Minho needed some comfort and reassurance in his current state. “We’ll find him, don’t worry,” Chan spoke gently as the others filed into the small apartment, all in varying states of dressed for the day since some of them had clearly been woken by Minho’s call a mere 15 minutes ago.

Minho offered tea as the group settled in the living room, but unsurprisingly, nobody took the offer.

“Did he say anything last night?” Felix eventually asked, voice deeper than usual from sleep and silvery hair messy atop his head.

The group shook their heads, except Minho, who cleared his throat in hope that it would make it sound less like he’d been crying, even though they all knew he had been. “He was acting really out of it last night,” Minho told them. “Something had him really distracted and upset, but when I tried to ask him about it, he refused to tell me and we got in a small fight. We made up before we went to bed though, and I thought everything would be fine and he’d tell me when he was ready, but then I woke up and he was gone…”

“You don’t think he left because of the fight, do you?” Hyunjin asked, wringing his hands in worry.

“We’ve had way worse fights than this. If he was gonna leave over a fight, it would’ve been well before now,” Minho shook his head.

“Maybe it was the last straw?” Seungmin suggested.

“Jisung isn’t the type to just run away when things get rough, and we all know how much he loves Min,” Chan disagreed. “And Minho said the note said he was leaving everything, not just Minho. There’s something else going on.”

“We should go to the police,” Changbin spoke up from his seat in the dining chair. “If he’s really missing, then we can report him as a missing person and they’ll be able to find him.”

“They won’t find him,” Jeongin responded with a shake of his head. “Jisung’s not in our world anymore.”

The group went silent, staring at their youngest friend like he’d grown a second head. Not in their world? What could that even mean?

Suddenly, the puzzle pieces began to click together.

“Innie, what color am I thinking of?” Minho asked.

Jeongin replied immediately, “Blue.”

“What did Chan eat for breakfast this morning?”

“Pancakes.”

“What did I eat for breakfast?”

“Trick question, you didn’t eat, but you made rice with tofu and eggs.”

“What’s the next bus that will stop on my street?”

“4419.”

The group watched in awe as Jeongin answered each question without the slightest pause, clearly certain in his answers despite no one having told the youngest these facts. Minho sighed.

“Innie, were you aware that you’re psychic?”

Jeongin stared at him, head tilted in thought as Felix spoke up in confusion. “Psychic?” Felix questioned. “Like, as in, like, knows everything? Like a magic sensitive human? That kind of psychic?”

“Yes…” Jeongin responded. “I didn’t exactly know before, but now that you say it, I sort of do?”

“Damn Innie, you’ve been a Magical this whole time, and you didn’t even tell us?” Hyunjin chuckled, bumping the younger with his shoulder.

Magicals, or magic sensitive humans, had been on the rise in the last few generations, becoming publicly known to the world about 20 years ago. They were rare, and varied in forms from Mediums, to Psychics, Clairvoyants, Telekinetics, and more. According to official records, there were so few Magicals in the world that you would likely go your whole life without ever meeting one, but if you asked a Magical, most would say there were probably more, they just didn’t reveal themselves.

“Innie,” Minho asked, “do you know where Jisung is?”

Jeognin frowned, clearly focussing heavily as he tried to determine the answer, before eventually looking back up at Minho. “No,” Jeongin shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t. I just know he’s not in our world.”

“If he’s not in our world, that means something beyond our realm is at play,” Chan determined.

“What do you mean?” Seungmin asked.

“There are a lot of magical realms, most that Magicals haven’t even dared explore, but some are easier to reach than others. If Jisung isn’t in our world, then he has to be in one of the dozens of others.”

“Wait, Chan,” Felix spoke up again. “How do you know so much about this?”

Chan sighed. “My mom’s sister, my aunt, is a witch. I asked a lot of questions when I was a kid.” There were general looks of shock around the room at the revelation.

“If Innie doesn’t know where Sung is, and he’s not even in our world… How do we even find him? Or get to him?” Changbin asked quietly.

A look passed between Minho and Chan, one that made Minho’s gut twist with even worse anxiety. He knew there was only one way to track Jisung down now, but the costs could be severe to him.

The brunette rose from his chair abruptly, ignoring his friends’ stares as he swiftly walked to his bedroom and pulled open the closet. Pushing boxes aside, he located a medium sized wooden box, plain in appearance with a small latch for a lock. He hesitated for a moment, before grabbing it and heading back to the living room.

If Jisung really was in another world, as a non Magical, then he was in severe danger, and Minho couldn’t waste anymore time. No matter what it took, he would do anything to save him, even if it meant breaking his own oath to himself. Jisung needed him, and nothing else mattered.

The group watched as Minho set the box down on the kitchen table, immediately beginning to rifle through its contents before pulling out a leather bag. Minho cursed quietly to himself at what he was about to do, before reaching a hand inside and pulling out a handful of stones, white symbols denoting their surfaces. He shattered the stones across the table, placing his hands over them and lowering his head with closed eyes.

His rune stones were powerful, originally belonging to his great grandmother, and had years of magic poured into them. If anything could tell him where his boyfriend was, it would be the stones. So he asked his question, before opening his eyes and beginning to shuffle the stones around, piecing them together as though they were a puzzle.

“That’s not possible…” Minho breathed, finally having his answer, but staring at the rune stones in disbelief. 

“What do they say?” Chan asked.

“They say he’s… Jisung is in Hell…”

“Does someone wanna explain what the hell is going on?” Changbin finally asked, the group still watching Minho with wide and confused eyes, all except Jeongin, of course.

“Minho is also a Magical,” Jeongin answered.

Minho sighed, turning to his friends. “I’m a witch, to be specific.”

Hyunjin almost fell out of his chair. “A witch?!”

“Look,” Minho grimaced, “I know you all are probably disgusted with what I am, and I get it, I am too, but right now, I’m begging you all to help me. If you never want to speak to me again after this, that’s fine, I’ll understand, but Jisung is in danger, and I need to find him, and I will need your help to do that.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Felix responded with a gently and reassuring smile. “Jisung is our friend too. Regardless of what you are, you’re still our friend, and we’ll do whatever it takes to find him.” The others nodded in agreement.

Minho took a deep breath, nodding in thanks.

“So,” Seungmin continued where they’d left off in discussion about Jisung, “Jisung is in Hell?”

“According to my runes, yes,” Minho replied, turning back to look at them in confusion. “But that can’t be possible.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s still alive. My magic formed a connection to him, even while I was cut off from it for so long, and now that I’ve reconnected I can still feel his life force. It’s far away, but he’s still alive. The only way a living being could make their way to Hell is through a doorway or gate.”

“So maybe Jisung found one?” Hyunjin suggested.

“But how? Why?” Minho asked rhetorically. “He’s not a Magical. Those things are damn near impossible to find, even for a Magical, unless-”

Minho suddenly stopped short, a thought occurring to him, before bolting back to the bedroom. He was back only moments later, Jisung’s goodbye note clutched in his hand. Minho again rifled through his box, pulling out chalk, some matches, and a sapphire jeweled dagger. Minho immediately got to work scribbling what appeared to be a pentagram in chalk onto the table, a rune being scrawled into the center, before placing the note over it. He then unsheathed the dagger, digging the point into the pad of one of his fingers to draw blood, allowing some to drip onto the sheet. Finally, he lit the note on fire, watching it burn with analyzing eyes.

Suddenly, Minho banged his fists down onto the table. “Fuck!” He collapsed into the chair beside him, running a hand over his face with teary eyes.

“What did you do? What did you find out?” Felix asked, watching his older friend with concern.

“It was a spell,” Minho responded after a moment. “A spell to determine if there were any magical influences over Jisung when he wrote the note. He was in control of his actions, but there was a presence over him, watching him.”

The group waited for him to elaborate.

“It was a Devil. A Devil from Hell had been talking to him,” he finally said with a shuddered breath.

“Why would a Devil be talking to a non Magical?” Chan questioned. “That makes no sense, unless-”

“Unless Jisung made a deal,” Minho finished. “It was probably attracted to my presence, but happened across Jisung in some time of need, and not knowing what it was, Jisung made a deal. Now it all makes sense, the note, how freaked out he was last night. It contacted him last night to pay up his end of the deal.”

“What in the hell could possibly be worth your soul?” Changbin wondered aloud. “Is he stupid?”

“I don’t know,” Minho replied with a shake of his head, “But whatever he bargained for he was clearly afraid of being taken back, enough that he willingly took himself to Hell while still alive.”

“So what do we do?”

“I’m going after him.” Minho was firm in his statement. “I won’t ask you all to follow. It’s extremely dangerous for even a Magical to go there, let alone non Magicals. I’ll find him, and I’ll bring him back.”

“You aren’t going alone,” Chan responded. “I don’t care how dangerous it is, Jisung is like a brother to me, as are you. I won’t let either of you head into danger without me being there to help.”

The rest of the group also nodded in agreement. “I’ll be able to help find him once I’m there,” Jeongin spoke up.

“No,” Minho shook his head. “It’s far too dangerous, you all could get killed.”

“And so could you,” Changbin argued back.

“Yes, but I’d rather it be me than any of you.”

“If you go alone and get killed, then no one will be able to get Jisung out,” Hyunjin fired back. “He’ll spend the rest of his life in Hell. We aren’t letting that happen.”

“If we all go together, we can have each other’s backs and it’ll be less likely for any of us to get seriously hurt,” Felix added.

“Like we said, he’s our friend too,” Chan smiled reassuringly at Minho. 

“We’re in this together. Jisung got himself into this mess and we’re gonna bust him out of it,” Seungmin stated with determination.

For the first time since Jisung’s disappearance, Minho felt the tiniest twinge of hope.

  
  


The drive to Jisung’s last known location was long.

Minho had access to Jisung’s phone’s tracker, and it’s last ping was in the middle of nowhere, a few hours outside the city. It was a tight fit for all 7 boys to smash into Chan’s vehicle, and definitely didn’t make for the most comfortable drive, but seeing as the only other car in the group was owned by Jisung, they didn’t have much of an option.

There wasn’t much chatter, the group off in their own worlds as they tried to think about anything other than the terrifying place they were all headed to. Minho, on the other hand, could only think of that.

Jisung was in Hell. Alone, afraid, and probably being tortured endlessly. The fear his boyfriend probably felt, the hopelessness and despair, just think about it made Minho want to cry. Jisung had always been a ball of sunshine, the light of his life; imagining the horrors the squirelly boy was probably facing, it made him sick.

Minho wished he had pushed the subject harder. Jisung was clearly afraid of something last night, and now he knew that he must’ve been absolutely terrified. Who wouldn’t be, at the knowledge you had sold your soul and would be leaving everyone you love behind to spend an eternity being tortured? He wished he could change it all, go back and make Jisung tell him, so he could’ve protected him, comforted him, made sure Jisung never,  _ ever  _ had to go through something so horrifying. It would’ve meant he’d have to reveal what he was, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and though the last thing he wanted was to lose Jisung, he’d rather do so knowing the love of his life was safe, rather than lose him to a fate as twisted as this.

He could’ve stopped this. He had his reasons for cutting himself off from his magic, his reasons for hiding it from everyone who knew him, but if he hadn’t, if he’d still been connected, he would’ve known, and he could’ve prevented this from ever happening. It wouldn’t surprise him if Jisung hated him for that alone.

“Min?” Chan’s voice broke Minho from his thoughts, the older glancing over at him from the driver seat. “You look like you’re about to cry. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Minho shook his head. “Just realizing how this is my fault.” He almost laughed.

Chan cocked an eyebrow in question.

“If I hadn’t cut myself off,” Minho finally spoke again, staring out the window as the midday sun illuminated the endless fields around them, “if I hadn’t hidden what I am, I would’ve been able to sense that Devil. I would’ve known, I could’ve protected him, made sure he never had to go through this. But I failed, I failed to keep him safe, and now he’s paying the price.” He heard his voice crack at the end, throat getting tight with emotion at the admission of his guilt.

Chan sighed, frowning at the road in front of them. “You had every reason to hide what you are, Min. I mean, after what happened in your past, it’s still a wonder that you didn’t completely run when I found out a couple years ago.”

“But yet my own fears lead to the person I love the most going to Hell to be tortured for eternity. Yeah, I probably would’ve lost him the moment he found out, but it would’ve been better than him having to go through this. I’m selfish.”

“You’re not selfish for wanting to protect your heart, Min,” Chan assured softly. “If he found out, and he left you because of it, it would’ve destroyed you.”

“Better me than him,” Minho sniffled.

Chan reached over, gently grabbing Minho’s wrist in comfort. “The past is the past, Min. We will always be haunted by our ‘what ifs’, but we are going to find him, and we will get him out of there, no matter what. It will all be okay in the end."

Minho shook his head. "It won't be though. Even if we save him, I'm still going to lose him..."

"Min-"

"I'm a freak, Chan. I'm a dangerous, horrifying freak. That's what everyone says, and that's exactly what he'll say, too. And he isn't wrong. Who was I kidding, thinking I could run from what I am, pretend I'm fucking normal and deserving of having a happy life? I tried to run, and this is what I got, the person I love paying for my sins."

"You aren't a freak, Minho."

Minho wished he could believe him.

  
  


It wasn’t much longer before they finally pulled up to the location they were headed to, knowing they were in the right place when they saw Jisung’s car parked outside. It was an old, wasting cement structure of some sort, with graffiti tagged walls and abandoned furniture and litter scattered about. As soon as Minho exited the car, he could feel a dark, menacing magic permeating the air.

It had to be the gate to Hell.

Minho followed the magic, the group trailing behind as it led them into the building, straight to an old, abandoned elevator.

“This is it,” Minho stated, gazing at the red elevator with apprehension. 

Chan stepped forward, opening the gate and watching the light inside flicker on. Multiple members of the group gulped.

“If anyone wants to turn back, this is your chance,” Minho stated. “I won’t hold it against you.”

Felix placed a hand on Minho’s shoulder. “We’re going with you.”

Minho nodded, taking a deep breath before stepping inside, the others following suit and filing in.

Chan closed the gate, pressing the button that would take him and his friends to Hell.


	3. Belonging

Jisung wanted to die.

He had lost track of the days since he made his trip down to hell, losing count sometime after he hit two years. What did it matter anyway? He would be stuck here for eternity, and never before had he realized how long eternity actually was.

Everything hurt. His body had lost so much weight from the lack of food he was given; he could hardly stand up for long without losing his breath, his stomach was always in severe pain from hunger, and his mouth was dry from thirst. His body was littered in scars and wounds at different stages of healing, all from the endless sessions of torture that the demons and devils partook in. They really enjoyed playing with him, something about how he had a physical, living body, unlike the other souls kept there, and it made it far more interesting for them. They liked watching him bleed, hearing him scream and cry, begging for death. They really were devils.

He didn’t think he had anything left to give them anymore. Jisung had regressed so far into his own mind, he felt the pain, but he had no more tears to cry. No screams left his lips anymore, he just lie there, limp, emotionless, an empty shell. In those moments, his only solace was his memories, remembering his friends, his life he’d had in the physical world, every moment he got to spend with Minho. He tried to remember the feeling of his touch, the taste of his lips, the sound of his voice and his laugh. All the whispered ‘I love you’s played through his mind like a scratched CD, repeating the same song forever, but now, the CD was beginning to wear out, the sound was growing faint and staticky. Minho’s face was growing fuzzy in his memories now, and no matter how hard he grasped onto the remnants of his past with the boy he loved, time was taking him away from Jisung, and that in itself was its own torture.

Jisung wondered what the older boy was doing with his life now. How had Minho handled him leaving? Did he miss him, did he cry? He hoped he hadn’t caused Minho too much pain, though he knew it was likely he had, so his only hope was that their friends had helped him through it, and that Minho was happy now. Maybe Minho had found someone new, someone who loved him better than Jisung ever could. He hoped that Minho had moved on, hell, a part of him hoped that he’d forgotten about Jisung entirely. He didn’t want Minho to suffer, all he wanted for him was to be protected. This was the price for that safety.

Was it worth it?

That question crossed Jisung’s mind a lot in his solitary hours alone, wondering if all the torture, the pain and suffering, the crippling loneliness… was it worth it? Sometimes he began to doubt it, began to wish he hadn’t made that deal, but then he would remind himself what the cost would’ve been if he hadn’t, what would’ve happened to his friends that night if he had chosen otherwise. They would’ve died, burned alive in his old apartment building. They were far too young to die, had so much more ahead of them, proven so by the extra years Jisung’s deal had bought them. If he hadn’t made that deal, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to confess to Minho, to spend those wonderful years by his side, loving and holding him. He wouldn’t have been able to live without any of them. His soul for their lives, it was worth it, no matter what he had to go through in exchange. The agony, the solitude, the fear of the unknown as he spends an eternity in hell, he would go through it a million times over for them. 

Things had changed though, recently. The demons had grown tired of not getting reactions out of him, no longer satisfied by his heartless whimpers and dazed eyes. He no longer cried and screamed, no longer begged for relief or escape, and so they’d become bored. Instead now, they’d found a new way to torment him. The devil he’d spoken to, the one who owned his soul, had taken delight in visiting him, telling him how he belonged in Hell, how he was a horrible person and was getting what he deserved.

At first he hadn’t believed him, he had been secure in his belief that he was a good person, and didn’t deserve eternal torment. But now? After that devil had delighted in reminding him or every fault he had, every sin he’d committed, every mistake and every regret that haunted him… Jisung had begun to lose his faith. He began to question if maybe this really was what he deserved.

Did he belong in Hell? That was what haunted his mind now. It’s one thing to spend an eternity knowing that you are being tormented in exchange for something righteous, something good… but it’s another to think that maybe you’re really there because it’s what you deserve. Jisung didn’t want to believe it, but each day it became harder to not believe.

And so he sat, curled up in his cell on the floor, the dim torch light flickering off his sickly pale skin, illuminating his dirtied and tattered clothes, matted hair, and blood smeared face. It took everything in him to hold onto what was left of his soul, clinging to his memories as his only escape, waiting for the next demon or devil to unlock his cell door and drag him to another torture session.

Jisung heard the lock click in the cell door, and glanced up weakly from his position on the ground. His eyes drifted over the unfortunately familiar dark hair and red eyes that had frequented his cell so often in recent time, and he felt his heart drop. He could deal with the physical pain, but the mental torment, he dreaded that the most.

“Hello, again, Jisung,” the deep voice that had onced echoed in his head spoke, a smirk playing on his lips.

Jisung didn’t respond, only watched him with caution.

“Still don’t believe you belong here? That you deserve everything happening to you?”

Although his mind may have wavered from time to time, he hadn’t fallen that far. He still knew that he was a good person, and he knew that if he’d had more time, he could’ve fixed the wrongs he’d committed. Jisung didn’t deserve eternal damnation, he was certain of it.

The Devil laughed. “I take it by your lack of response that you still don’t believe me. Say, what do you think your precious Minho would say if we asked him?”

Jisung perked up at the sound of his boyfriend’s name, as though the sound had the capability to inject the smallest bit of life back into him, even coming from the Devil’s mouth.

“H-He would say,” Jiusng’s voice was hoarse from lack of use, his cracked lips forming around the words as though they were completely foreign, “that I don’t deserve this.”

The Devil smiled, before laughing even harder as he leaned against the stone wall across from the small, emaciated human. “Oh, is that so? Hm, well maybe that is what he would say, but after what you’ve done to him, it’s not true.”

Confusion passed over Jisung. What he’d done to him? Sure, they’d had fights, and Jisung didn’t always make the best decisions, but he had done everything he could to be the best boyfriend possible. He wasn’t perfect, but there was no way he had done something to Minho that made him worthy of belonging in the fiery pits of Hell.

“W-what I’ve done…?” Jisung stuttered in question.

The Devil stepped closer, smiling coldly down at the human curled up on the floor. “You made him afraid to be who he was, made him hide a part of him so that you wouldn’t leave him. You made him hate himself.”

Jisung’s dark eyes widened at the accusation. That couldn’t possibly be true; they’d known each other for years now, and they told each other everything, knew each other better than they knew themselves. Minho was always his loud, strange, and hilarious self, and Jisung always made sure that the older knew he was a safe person, that he could be himself around Jisung and trust him even when he couldn’t with anyone else. The idea that despite all that, Jisung had made his boyfriend afraid to be the real him around him, was absurd. It was a lie.

“That’s not true,” Jisung shook his head with more energy than he realized he had. “I know him, better than I know myself. He trusted me.”

The Devil’s smile never left as he came to crouch right in front of Jisung, clasping his ringed hands in front of his tall body. “Then why did he never tell you he was a witch?”

Jisung’s whole body froze.

“Ah, a little fact you didn’t know about him, contrary to what you just told me. You didn’t really know him, he never let you know him, because he was afraid that if you knew what he was, you would hate him. You made him hate what he was, Jisung, so much that he made the choice to forsake his magic entirely, to cut himself off from it forever because he believed he was a freak. He had lost so many people in his life because they found out the truth, and you were his last hope, the one person he had hoped that he could trust with that part of him, and love him anyway. He believed that if anyone in the world would love him as he was, it would be you, but you made him feel isolated, feel ashamed. You shattered his last hope, Han Jisung, and drove the knife into his heart that made him truly believe that he was an unlovable freak. You did that to him, and for forsaking his trust and love in such a way, don’t you think you deserve punishment for such a thing?”

“You’re lying…” That was all Jisung could manage, his heart pounding and voice unbearably quiet, as he tried to wrap his mind about what he’d just learned. There was no way Minho was a witch, it just wasn’t possible. Witches were evil, dangerous, wanted to take over the world, killed people for fun, wanted to enslave mankind. Minho wasn’t like that; Minho was kind, warm, funny, loving, protective, and most of all, innocent. Witches were to be feared and avoided at all costs, and Minho was the most accepting and soft person Jisung knew. Someone like him could never be a witch, it just couldn’t be true.

The Devil smiled and snapped his fingers. Suddenly, Jisung felt like his mind was pulled through a meat grinder, images and memories that weren’t his passing before his eyes at lightning speed.

A faint memory showed Minho, crying as he begged his parents to let him stay, pleading as they pushed him out of their home with only a suitcase in hand.

_ “I’m not like them!” _ the young, apparently teenage Minho sobbed to the scowling adults, his brown hair sticking to his cheeks from the salty tears.

_ “No son of mine is a witch,” _ his father declared, shoving the suitcase into Minho’s hands.  _ “From this point on, you are no longer our child.” _

The door of the home was slammed shut, leaving a sobbing and now homeless teenaged Minho on the doorstep.

The memory was gone as fast as it came, time passing in blips before it was suddenly a couple years later, Minho now barely a graduate from high school, and in a stuffy apartment he shared with his then boyfriend. Jisung recognized the boy from pictures, realizing that this was the boy who had broken Minho’s heart before the older decided to move and they had met about a year later. The young couple was arguing, and Jisung quickly recognized what about.

_ “How dare you not tell me!” _ the boyfriend roared in anger, staring Minho down across the room. Minho looked afraid, pulled into himself in shame and regret as the boy he had loved berated him.  _ “You’re a fucking liar!” _

_ “I never lied,” _ Minho pleaded.  _ “I just wanted to wait until the right time to tell you. I didn’t want you to be afraid of me, I wanted you to just see me as who I am first…” _ Jisung didn’t think he’d ever heard the older boy sound so timid.

_ “Oh I see who you are alright,” _ the boyfriend snapped. _ “You’re dangerous, you’re a fucking witch.” _ He spat the term like it was venom.

_ “But I’m still me, I’m still the Minho you fell in love with.” _

_ “I could never love a freak like you.” _

Jisung saw the tears slip from Minho’s eyes as the memories began to change again, this time moving much faster. He saw that the ex boyfriend told their friends about Minho’s identity, and that soon enough, their whole town knew. He lost his job, waiters and waitresses refused to serve him food at restaurants, people avoided him on the streets. It was like he was a walking freak show, everyone staring at him wherever he went, whispers following him in the shadows, about how evil he was and all the horrible things he’d supposedly done. His ex boyfriend claimed that Minho had bewitched him to fall in love, his ex friends claimed he tried to convince them to steal things for him so he could cast his spells. Nobody would talk to him or associate with him, and eventually the landlord evicted him because everyone refused to live in the same building as him.

For the first time, Jisung realized the truth about witches. His whole life, everyone - the government, the media, his family and friends - said he should fear witches, that they were to be avoided. It was fear mongering, stereotypes built because of what had happened in the past. The whole reason humans learned about the existence of magic and Magicals was because a group of witches tried to uproot governments around the world and killed hundreds of thousands of people in the process. Jisung had learned about it in his school history classes, about how governments around the world banded together to take the witches down and imprison them. From then on, humans feared the witches and their intense, all powerful magic. Never once had anyone stopped to question if maybe they weren’t all like that.

Not even Jisung, when the person he loved the most was a witch himself.

The memories finally shifted to something more recent, a familiar view of Minho’s apartment, the older sitting on the couch with a smile as he talked on the phone with Jisung. Jisung remembered this day, this conversation. He remembered they’d been together for only a few months and Minho had started to make the habit of calling the younger every day after work. Suddenly, Jisung realized where this was going, and a pit formed in his stomach.

_ “You’re out later than usual,” _ Minho commented nonchalantly, a smile playing at his perfect lips as he leaned back against the leather sofa.

_ “Eh, not really, I just got delayed getting to my car is all,” _ Jisung’s voice responded over the phone.

“Oh? What delayed you?” Jisung wanted to cry at the beautiful smile that grew on Minho’s face. He missed him so much.

_ “Nothing important, just avoiding one of those freaks outside our building today.” _

Jisung saw Minho visibly freeze as the words, and Jisung wished he could go back in time and punch himself in the face.

_ “Freaks?” _ Despite the obvious unease in Minho’s features, his voice was remarkably nonchalant.

_ “Yeah, one of those freaky ass witches. Was tryna sell me spells or something, as if I’d be dumb enough to give money to a witch. Who knows what he’d use it to buy, probably something for a sacrifice or some shit.” _

Jisung could only watch the heartbreak and pain in Minho’s eyes, watch as Minho tried to continue to hold a conversation with the younger despite clearly having been shattered by Jisung’s heartless words. The conversation ended shortly after, and Jisung wished nothing more than to step in and hug Minho so tightly, swear to him that he didn’t mean it, that he was stupid and didn’t know what he was saying. He wanted to beg for forgiveness, because as Minho slowly laid down on the couch after setting the phone down, tears freely falling down his cheeks and dripping onto the seat below him, he heard the faintest, heartbroken sob.

_ “Why did I have to be born a freak?” _

The memories ended as suddenly as they began, and Jisung found himself dizzy as he lay still on the cold stone floor of his cell, staring up at the smiling Devil crouched over him.

“After you showed him your true feelings about witches, your beloved Minho made an oath to himself that he would never use magic again. He locked away everything associated with it, disconnecting from the part of his soul that tied him to the magical world. In a desperate attempt to keep you, he gave up and hid a part of himself, believing that that part of him made him unloveable. You did that, Jisung.”

The guilt weighed so heavily on JIsung’s chest, suffocating and tight. He wanted to cry, seeing the pain and self hatred in Minho’s eyes when Jisung called witches freaks. Minho wasn’t like the witches he’d learned about; he was beautiful and amazing, and sure Jisung didn’t know much about his magic or anything, but he wished he’d gotten a chance to know that part of his boyfriend too, that he could’ve loved that part of Minho just as much as he loved every other part of him, because if it was Minho, then it couldn’t be evil or dangerous. He wished he could’ve helped Minho love what he is, not lead him to hating it more, and he cursed himself for being so stupid and insensitive. What he’d done was unforgivable. Minho deserved so much better than that.

“So sad,” the Devil continued, another evil smirk playing on his lips. “You’ll never even get the chance to rectify, to apologize.”

Jisung thought that was obvious, considering he was trapped in Hell for eternity, but the Devil’s words caught his attention, questioning just what it was that he was going on about.

“Despite what you did to him, Minho still loved you, and so did your friends. They came after you, you know? They came down here to rescue their beloved Jisung from Hell, to bring him home. Too bad they all died in their attempt.”

The words made ice erupt in Jisung veins. “No… No, no, they can’t be dead!”

“Oh, but they are.”

Jisung’s head split in agony again, more memories flashing before his eyes, this time filled with blood and death. He saw the battered, bloodied, and broken bodies of his friends, scattered throughout the caves of the underworld, each of their faces frozen in eternal pain. Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin, and Minho, all lifeless, because of him.

Jisung felt like he was going to be sick.

“They tracked you down, but were unable to defend themselves against the horde of my demons that sat waiting for them when they arrived. Funny, you sold your soul to protect them, but in the end, they ended up dead, all the same, and this time, it’s your fault.”

The Devil was right, it was Jisung’s fault. He hadn’t hidden his tracks well enough, and had come down to Hell only to lead them here, a place they very much didn’t belong in. They were  _ gone _ , they had been killed because of him. They wouldn’t get to live out their lives like he’d hoped, have families, move on without him. So much of their futures were taken, and it felt like a hole had been ripped out of Jisung’s soul, making it hard to breathe, hard to think beyond the emotional agony of realizing all 7 of the people you love the most were murdered because of you.

Tears fell freely from Jisung’s eyes as the Devil left his cell, the human clutching his knees and sobbing so hard it ached, crying out the name of the one person he’d wanted to protect more than anything, but only ended up hurting the most in the end.


	4. Sins

The first thing Minho realizes is that it's cold, and very dark. He’s pretty sure that if he could see well enough in the dark room the elevator had brought them to, he’d be able to see his breath, but of course, he couldn’t confirm, because he couldn’t see anything. He had to admit he was a bit surprised. Most lore described Hell as some massive pit of flame, sweltering hot and horrible, but this was cold and desolate.

The next thing he noticed was the overwhelming rush of magical energy surrounding the place. It was chaotic and buzzed with an electricity that set his senses alight, as though the air held an electric charge right before a lightning strike. Minho had heard that some worlds were like that, were filled with more magical energy than anyone in their world would ever be used to feeling, but now that he was experiencing it himself, it almost gave him a head rush.

Once the elevator - or “Hellevator,” as Changbin jokingly coined the name on their long trip to this world - had come to a halt, Minho quickly tapped each member of their group on the shoulder, shrouding them in a magical energy akin to the one he was feeling in the realm they had arrived in. He didn’t know exactly what would be waiting for them, but their best bet was to be as stealthy as possible and draw very little attention to themselves. Someone would have to be very, very close in proximity to them, as a magic sensitive being, to even be able to tell that they were there. He may not want to use his magic, but he wasn’t about to let them just walk in and immediately get caught. There was too much on the line.

The room they were in was remarkably dark, but there was a door with a sliver of light peaking through at the far end. The friends quickly made their way to it, and found themselves in a long, cave-like corridor, lit every so often by torches lining the walls.

“Well, where do we go now?” Hyunjin asked quietly, his blonde hair now pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of his face.

Minho was silent for a moment, trying to reach through the immense static of magic energy surrounding them and out to the life force his magic was so familiar with. He could feel it, somewhere in this place, but he couldn’t quite grasp it. Minho shook his head. “There’s too much strong magic energy here,” he whispered in response. “I can feel him, but I can’t locate where he is…”

“It’s okay,” Jeongin assured with a gentle nod. “Now that I’m here, whatever was blocking me from knowing his location before has lifted now, I think probably because I’m in contact with the magic of this world. He’s in a solitary confinement cell, and I can lead us to him!”

“If Minho can’t locate him right now, then I think it’s best to let Innie guide us,” Chan spoke. “Do you all agree?” The group nodded, before beginning to follow their youngest friend down the tunnel.

Hell was… unnerving. As they passed through the cavern like maze, the cold nipping at them, unease settled over the group like tidal waves. Screams of agony echoed through the halls, followed by demonic laughs or loud bangs. Different smells wafted past them, like burning hair, blood, or something crude smelling like acid. Minho couldn’t help but worry if one of those echoed, haunting screams belonged to his boyfriend, if Jisung was being tortured right now, if he was in pain. He could feel him now that he was in Hell, and though he was still alive, he could sense how weak he was, much weaker than he would’ve expected for how long he’d been gone. Minho voiced his concerns aloud after a moment.

“My aunt once told me about Hell,” Chan responded, eyes flitting to each of the doorways they passed, making sure no one had seen them. “She told me that a lot of witches believed that time travels differently here, that an eternity in Hell is a lot longer than an eternity in our world.”

“I’ve heard the theory,” Minho responded. “They think that time travels faster here.”

“So you’re saying that Jisung might’ve been here a lot longer than only a few hours?” Felix questioned softly from beside Minho.

“One hour in our world is a year here in Hell,” Jeongin responded, and the words made Minho stop walking entirely.

 _A year?_ Depending on what time Jisung left his apartment and arrived in Hell, it could’ve been anywhere from a few hours to about 10. Jisung could’ve been down here, being tortured relentlessly, for almost a decade…

“Minho?” Changbin asked, looking back at the older.

“He’s been down here, alone, for so long...” Minho looked at his friends before taking a deep breath to compose himself, resuming walking. “We need to find him. I’m not letting him spend another second in this place.”

The group nodded in agreement, following his lead and even picking up their pace as Jeongin directed them. They walked for what felt like days, though Minho was sure was actually less than an hour, as they snuck around, hiding in empty rooms and behind random objects as demons made rounds past them. Each time, Minho felt like he was going to explode, holding his breath as he waited for the creatures to pass and praying that his years of disconnect from his magic hadn’t made him rusty with his cloaking spell.

After a while, the group approached another room to pass through, not unlike the last several they’d entered, but as soon as they came to the doorway, something made Minho freeze in his tracks. The hair on his neck stood on end, goosebumps rising as his heart rate accelerated. This room felt threatening, something about the atmosphere and the magic swirling in it, it was dangerous.

“What’s wrong?” Seungmin whispered when Minho halted in front of them.

Minho shook his head to clear his panicked daze. “The magic in this room,” he responded, “feels wrong; it feels threatening. I think they’ve used this room for torture of some kind.”

A collective shiver of fear passed through the group.

“This is the only way forward,” Jeongin reminded them softly.

It took a moment to collect himself, but Minho finally worked up the nerve to follow his friends into the room. He couldn’t explain it, like every cell in his body was crying out in terror, his magic sensing something no one else could feel. It was unnatural and chilling to the bone, as they walked through the large expanse of the cavern-like room, their quiet footsteps echoing softly in the empty space. Minho didn’t like it one bit, and couldn’t wait to get out of there.

They were about halfway across the length of the room when the whispers started. First, they were only gibberish, echos of phrases and words, pleads for relief from pain, shouts of fear and agony. Minho thought it was his magic picking up on the past of the room, but then they started to get louder, shouting in his ears to the point where he could hear nothing other than the pain of so many souls that had been tormented where he stood. Minho covered his ears, as though it would keep out the noise reverberating in his head, before collapsing to his knees in pain, one voice heard above all the rest.

_“Minho…”_

Without warning, Minho found himself kneeling in a black expanse of emptiness, the darkness swirling around him like a thick fog. Minho stood carefully, watching his surroundings as a figure materialized before him, kneeling low with his head bowed in submission, as though Minho were some sort of king. Even with his face hidden, Minho would recognize that figure anywhere.

“Jisung?” Minho voiced quietly.

Jisung looked up, dark eyes vacant. “Is this what you desire?” He asked.

“What?” Minho questioned, stepping forward towards Jisung’s small frame before he disappeared once more, leaving the older confused and a bit disoriented.

Before he could question it much more, a body materialized once more to his right, Minho turning to see the small frame of his boyfriend, smiling up at the much taller Hyunjin, hands intertwined between them. Both boys suddenly turned to Minho.

“You were always afraid I loved my best friend more than you,” Jisung accused.

“And you were always afraid I’d take Jisung from you,” Hyunjin added.

Jisung and Hyunjin smiled twistedly at him, before turning to join their lips in a deep kiss, one that made Minho avert his eyes in pain. He knew it wasn’t real, but the image of Jisung kissing someone else was not what he wanted to see, and he hated that it made him just as jealous as they’d accused him of being.

Jisung and Hyunjin’s figures vanished again, but were quickly replaced by another materializing form to Minho’s left. He turned once more, this time coming face to face with a blotchy, tear stained face, Jisung staring up at him with utter heartbreak. He held out a phone, the screen facing Minho and showing what appeared to be messages and pictures exchanged between Minho and another man.

“Was I not enough?” Jisung whimpered, and Minho swore his heart was shattered at the broken sound of his beloved boyfriend’s voice. “You needed more attention, so you went to someone else?”

Minho shook his head rapidly. “I would never, Sung.” He reached for the boy, only for him to vanish once more.

Another form appeared behind him, and Minho turned again, eyes finding Jisung’s thin form, skin bare and on display, completely naked and vulnerable. It was nothing Minho hadn’t seen before, but it was the way Jisung looked at him, with disdain and disappointment, that made the fist around Minho’s heart tighten.

“I’m just a tool for your pleasure, right?”

Minho’s eyes widened as the figure disappeared once more, and he felt the confusion and whiplash of so many emotions really beginning to bear down on him, chest tightening and tears stinging his eyes. He didn’t like seeing Jisung in any of these positions, and he hoped to god he’d never have to witness them again.

This time, the next version of jisung materialized right in front of him, and Minho nearly sobbed at the sight. Jisung cowered in front of him, short sleeved shirt and low neckline revealing dark bruises at various stages of healing. Jisung’s face was even worse, a bleeding lip, healing black eye, and a cut across his cheekbone marking his boyfriend’s perfect features, but it was the look in his eyes that was worst of all, the look of complete and utter fear that Jisung looked at him with.

“Jisung?” Minho choked on his words, a tear falling from his eye and he reached toward the boy to comfort him, only to watch the younger flinch back in fear.

“I’m sorry I made you mad,” Jisung whimpered, cowering in front of the older like a kicked puppy. 

“No,” Minho shook his head as he struggled to breath. “Baby, I would never hurt you.” He reached forward again, wanting desperately to hold and comfort the boy he loved, only to watch in heartbreak as Jisung vanished yet again.

Minho almost didn’t want to face the figure that appeared to his left, but he reluctantly turned, salty drops of water still trailing down his cheeks as he came to face another Jisung, this time, dressed in a nice suit, trapped in the confines of what seemed to be a human-sized display case.

“I’m a trophy to you,” Jisung spoke through the glass. “You don’t love me, you only want to possess me.”

Minho shook his head as he placed his hand on the glass, pain in his gaze as he stared at Jisung. “I love you more than anything,” he cried softly. “You’re a person, not something to be owned, especially not by me.”

Jisung only stared at him, disbelieving, before disappearing into the darkness. He was promptly replaced by another Jisung, staring up at Minho with so much hurt that Minho wanted to crumble to pieces.

“You don’t put effort into us anymore,” Jisung said. “Do you even love me anymore? Do you want to distance yourself from me, so I’ll eventually break it off and leave? A relationship goes two ways, Minho; both parties have to give, so why aren’t you giving?”

“B-but I am!” Minho stuttered through the tears. “I’ve given my everything to us, Sung. I swear, I’m trying my best, I really am…”

“You don’t deserve me.” 

“Jisung-”

“Goodbye, Minho.” Jisung stepped back, disappearing into the darkness.

“Jisung!” Minho cried, stumbling to chase after him. “Jisung, please! Please come back! I can’t lose you!”

Minho ran through the blackness, screaming after the boy he loved, but got no response. He was alone, abandoned in the darkness of his own mind, Jisung’s accusations echoing in his head. Finally, Minho collapsed once more, terrified and heartbroken sobs choking from his throat. Was it true? Were those really Minho’s deepest and darkest thoughts and fears? Was Minho capable of doing any of those things to Jisung, of cheating on him, using him for pleasure, hurting him, or treating him as a possession? The thoughts terrified him, the idea of being the cause of any of Jisung’s pain being mortifying to imagine. 

_“Minho!”_

Minho’s head felt like it was pulled through a straw, Changbin’s voice pounding in his ears as he was ripped from the darkness and brought back to the cavern-like room. He was lying on the cold stone floor, wetness on his cheeks from tears, and throat feeling unusually raw as his friends all crouched around him, concern etched into their features.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin asked, helping Minho sit up. “You collapsed and started crying while screaming for Jisung.”

Minho rubbed his temples with his fingers before quickly wiping away the remnants of his tears, nodding. “I think my magic is too sensitive to what they did here,” he said quietly, remembering Jisung’s harsh words. “I was feeling the influence from the Seven Sins.”

“They must’ve done a lot of psychological torture in here,” Jeongin frowned.

Before the conversation could continue further, voices sounded down the hall from where they’d come, making all boys freeze.

“We need to move. Minho, is the cloaking spell still active?” Chan spoke urgently, standing and offering a helping hand to the boy who’d just literally been put through torture.

Minho nodded. “It’s still working. Let’s move.”

The group took off in a run, hoping to put as much distance between them and the enemy as possible.


	5. Alone

Jisung stared up at the stone ceiling of his cell, gaze distant and solemn. Dark hair stuck out haphazardly, dirtied and tattered clothes barely hanging to his thin frame. He had long since grown used to the echoing screams of the damned, filling the silence with a haunting ambience as Jisung regressed into his mind.

He was alone; it pressed on him like the weight of the sea. How long had he been here? It had been so long, every second making the ache in his chest grow tighter, the thorns squeezing his lungs and making it difficult to breathe. You would’ve thought that he’d run out of tears by now, but every now and then, the weight in his heart would be just enough for a tear to slip from his eye, trailing through the dirt on his cheeks and glistening in the flickering torch light. The loneliness was suffocating.

He missed his friends. It had been so long that their faces were fuzzy in his memories now, voices distorted and distant. He missed Chan’s kind words and enthusiasm, Changbin’s teasing and whining, he missed how Hyunjin would be dramatic over everything and always over exaggerate, how Felix would bake brownies for no occasion at all, how Seungmin would look at him with his knowing eyes and always know what he was feeling, and how Jeongin’s smile could light up the room and make everyone happy.

And Jisung missed Minho; he missed him so much he thought he could die from the pain. He missed him like the moon misses the sun, or the night sky misses the stars on a cloudy night. He missed his beautiful laugh and bright smile, his dark and mischievous cat-like eyes, he missed hearing his beautiful voice, soft and angelic when he would whisper ‘I love you’, and he missed kissing Minho’s soft lips, smiling as they held each other close because they knew better than anyone that they really were two halves of a whole soul. Jisung wished he had taken the time to memorize the small things, because he missed how Minho’s hands fit in his, he missed waking up to Minho’s comfortable warmth beside him in bed on the mornings when they spent the previous night together, he missed the simple phone calls after work, the snow filter selfies, the thoughtful dinners and dates. And it hurt so much, more than any torture had, knowing that he would never, ever get to experience it again.

He had never deserved Minho. Minho was such a pure and happy soul, so kind and thoughtful, just so genuinely perfect in every way. Not perfect as in he had no flaws, but Minho was perfect for Jisung, like pieces of a puzzle fitting together to form a whole picture. Jisung had always been afraid that he’d lose him, that someday Minho would realize that he was far beyond Jisung’s league, and would leave him. And now, it was a wonder why he hadn’t because Minho had been through hell, treated like he was a monster all because the people who were supposed to love him chose to forget _who_ he was when they found out _what_ he was. Minho had sought safety and solace in Jisung, and instead, Jisung villainized him, made Minho believe that what others said was true. Jisung had caused Minho to hate what he was, and Jisung could never forgive himself for that.

And he would never forgive himself for the pain he had caused the people he loved. Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin, and Minho, they were all dead, because of him. He hadn’t been smart enough to keep them from finding him, and in their attempt to save his sorry ass, they were murdered. Minho and their friends were gone, forever, and it was his fault. 

Jisung finally had his answer: he does belong in Hell. He deserved every excruciating torture method they inflicted on him, every cut and bruise, the starving pains, the screams and the crying. He deserved the gaping hole in his chest where his heart was sinking lower and lower, weighed down and blackened by guilt and emotional agony. And though he wished for death, he knew he deserved to live with this pain, the guilt and the loss. No mercy would be given to him for what he had done. This was his payment.

So Jisung lay there, torturing himself with his memories, the hands of the clock moving perpetually forward as he slipped through time, unmoving. The Devil had stopped visiting him long ago, so he was left undisturbed, though it wasn’t like anyone needed to come torture him since he was doing it just fine by himself.

Eventually, after what could’ve been months or years to Jisung’s knowledge, he heard the lock click on his cell door. Expecting a demon or devil to be paying a visit, Jisung didn’t bother to look up and see who it was.

Until he heard a heartbreakingly familiar, soft voice call his name.

“Jisungie?”

Jisung’s heart leapt into his throat, pulse racing a million miles a second as he slowly turned to the door, taking in an oh so familiar figure in the doorway. He knew that figure, that body, that face, those eyes, but he was afraid to hope, afraid that his eyes were playing tricks on him, afraid that he wasn’t real at all.

“Min?” Jisung whispered, his voice gravely and cracked from not using it for so long.

Minho ran forward, collapsing at Jisung’s side and pulling the younger into a tight embrace. Jisung could hardly believe it, and found himself gripping onto Minho for dear life, body shaking as he sobbed into the older’s shirt. “I thought you were dead,” he cried.

Minho ran gentle fingers through Jisung’s hair, shushing him quietly to help him calm down. “I’m here, baby, I’m here.” Minho pulled back, taking Jisung’s face into his hands, and Jisung took the opportunity to remap every feature of Minho’s face, tears blurring his vision as he leaned into the soft touch he had longed for so much. “We don’t have much time,” Minho said, urgency finding its way into his voice. “The others and I tracked you down, but we have to leave now so we don’t get caught.” Minho stood, holding his hand out to Jisung with a hopeful smile. “We’re getting you out of here Sung, we’re gonna take you home.”

Jisung took a shaky breath before reaching up to take Minho’s hand, the older carefully pulling him up to his side and steadying him when he wobbled. With Minho’s arm around his waist to keep him upright, he guided them out of the cell and into the hall, where Jisung came face to face with the rest of his friends, all smiling at him with hope in their eyes.

Chan placed a comforting hand on Jisung’s shoulder when he saw him, smile making his eyes crinkle as he spoke, “It’s good to have you back, Ji. You ready to go home?”

Jisung nodded, “Yes, I’m ready.”

The group smiled, each doing their own thing to reassure Jisung that they were there before they began to hurriedly head down the halls. Jisung couldn’t believe that it was real, that they were actually alive. Had the Devil lied to him? He supposed that was completely possible, seeing as he was quite literally a devil and morality was not something in his list of accomplishments.

Jisung dared to hope, dared to feel relief course through him like a revitalizing drug in his system. The ache in his heart dissipated, replaced by an overwhelming warmth and happiness. They were alive, and they were taking him home. He’d get to live with Minho again, he could make up for everything he’d done wrong, and love Minho like he deserves. He’d get to be with his friends again, make music with Chan and Changbin, play games with Felix, tease Seungmin and Jeongin, and play pranks on Hyunjin. He could be happy again, and this time, he’d make sure he deserves it.

The group continued to run, turning corner after corner as Minho made sure to keep Jisung up to speed with them, constantly checking on the boy at his side with fond eyes and a loving smile. Jisung thought his heart could burst, as though he’d forgotten what it felt like to be loved. Minho was really there, and they were going to be okay.

Jisung reached down, lacing his finger’s with Minho’s as they ran, only for his warm hand to slip from his grasp as they turned a corner, and Jisung suddenly found himself _alone_. His eyes widened, panic rising in his chest as he searched for Minho and the others.

“Minho?” Jisung called. “Chan? Guys?” There was no answer.

Jisung stepped forward, prepared to run all over Hell to look for them, before a clawed grip suddenly pulled him back with a yelp.

“You certainly are a hopeful one, aren’t you Han Jisung?” The sadistic chuckle of the Devil came from beside him.

“W-what did you do with them?” Jisung stuttered, tears already forming in his eyes in desperation and fear. “Where did they go?!”

The Devil only laughed again. “I told you, your friends, your beloved Minho, they’re all dead.”

“No, no no no, no!” Jisung felt his breath coming fast and panicked, and he realized he was probably going to hyperventilate if he didn’t try to calm down, but he couldn’t focus enough to care. “They were here, they were alive! What did you do to them!?”

The Devil stepped forward, looming over Jisung’s frail figure. “They were never here, Jisung, and they never will be.”

The Devil reached out, his claws digging into the flesh of Jisung’s shoulder as he dragged the sobbing and screaming human back to his cell, all while Jisung’s world came crashing down around him, all over again.


	6. Lifeless

Minho could feel the anxiety building in his system by now. They were close, close enough that he could nearly locate Jisung through the intense magic surrounding them, and he just wanted to run the rest of the way, to break down every door and barrier that tried to stop him just so he could get back to the boy he loved, hold him and keep him safe. He could almost feel the pain radiating through Jisung’s life force, and it felt like a punch to the gut, taking the wind from his lungs and making him want to collapse to the floor. He was afraid of the state they would find him in, and every second Jisung wasn’t in his arms made that fear worse.

They had run for quite a while after Minho had collapsed, outrunning the guards that had heard him scream, before eventually slowing to a brisk walk again. They still had to hide from patrols and other random demons and devils that wandered too close to their positions, which slowed their progress considerably, but they were finally close, obvious both from Minho’s growing sensitivity to Jisung’s life force, and by Jeongin’s psychic abilities. Despite how much Minho wanted to reach Jisung, he also couldn’t help but be a bit scared.

“When we find him,” Minho finally spoke up after a while, his eyes downcast, “please don’t tell him about what I am.”

“Min…” Chan looked at Minho sadly.

Minho shook his head, not wanting to hear whatever argument Chan would create to convince him otherwise. “After all this, I can’t lose him. He’ll be afraid of me, he thinks witches are dangerous and evil, and I can’t afford for him to not trust me…”

“Jisung loves you,” Hyunjin responded, a reassuring hand resting on Minho’s upper arm. “He wouldn’t hate you or be afraid of you, regardless of what you are, just like us.”

“You seriously think you can just hide it from him? Forever?” Changbin asked. “Minho, that can’t be good, for your sanity or your relationship with him.”

“I’ve been hiding it for years, and I swore I would never use magic again. I’m a freak, and if others were to find out, I’d lose my job, my apartment… I’ve already been through that once, and I’m not going to make the same mistake,” Minho replied.

“Jisung isn’t  _ him _ , Minho,” Chan reminded him, still gazing at his friend while they walked. “What happened before, the way your ex treated you, it was cruel and unfair. Jisung isn’t that kind of person, and he loves you more than anything in the world.”

“Yeah, well that's what I thought about  _ him _ , and we see how that turned out.”

“We won’t tell him if you don’t want us to,” Seungmin seceded, “but you should reconsider. He will love you no matter what, and he would never dream of turning on you.”

“I don’t know what happened with you and your ex,” Felix added, “but you know full well if Jisung ever did anything stupid and hurt you, we would all kick his ass.”

“Myself included,” Hyunjin chuckled, “despite him being my best friend.”

“I appreciate it,” Minho sighed, “but I’m not going to tell him. After we get him out of here, I’m never touching magic again.”

The group collectively frowned at their friend’s statement, but knew they shouldn’t go against his wishes. It was his life, his magic, his choice. 

Minho’s mind continued to wander as they approached the solitary confinement cells, the screams and cries of tortured souls echoing down the halls like the ambience of a haunted house. It gave Minho chills, hearing the sheer agony that some of these screams held, and for a moment, he allowed his mind to wonder what Jisung had been through.

Had Jisung screamed like that? Had he cried and pleaded for them to stop? Had he been subjected to any sort of mental torment like what Minho had experienced earlier, or perhaps even worse? The thought that any one of those screams he heard could be Jisung made the older want to break down in tears, and he wanted to hold Jisung tightly in his arms to shield him from any harm ever coming to him again. If he ever got his hands on the bastards that hurt Jisung, he’d make sure they would regret ever laying a finger on his boyfriend.

Finally, they reached the solitary confinement cells, and the group stopped for a moment to gaze down the maze of hallways. This part of Hell was a bit different looking, the cave-like tunnels looking much more like dungeon walls, rusted metal doors spotting the long expanse before them. Finally, the thick and overwhelming magic that had been permeating the air had lessened just slightly, enough that Minho could fully sense Jisung, able to sense his exact location in the mess of hallways before them.

“I found him,” Minho spoke up. “I can feel him now, we’re close.”

Nothing else needed to be said for the group to begin following Minho as he ran down the halls, ignoring the moans of pain and cries for release from the other prisoners they passed. Minho couldn’t hold back, he was too close to wait anymore. He needed to get to Jisung as fast as possible, needed to see him with his own eyes, hold him, kiss him, comfort him. He would’ve blown through a whole demon army if needed to; nothing could stop him now.

Abruptly, Minho came to a stop, facing a rusted metal door with unsteady breaths. This was it, Jisung was just on the other side of the door. The group had all stopped behind him, staring at the door with apprehension, and wondering how they would proceed, but Minho was far ahead of them, already tapping his fingers to the lock and whispering an incantation.

The lock on the door clicked, and Minho grabbed the handle, taking a deep breath as he pushed the heavy metal open.

The group stepped in, eyes quickly adjusting to the much dimmer lighting coming from the sole torch on the far wall, and Minho scanned the room, weary for any signs of danger, before spotting a body in the corner of the room.

Minho swore that his heart stopped, taking in the crumpled form that he knew was Jisung’s despite the fact that he nearly couldn’t tell. His clothes were dirtied and nearly in complete shreds, revealing heavily scarred skin, bruises and blood covering a dangerously thin frame. Minho quickly realized that they probably hadn’t fed Jisung at all, but he couldn’t die as long as his soul was owned by a devil, and that in itself was it’s own torture.

“Jisungie?” Minho called softly, stepping tentatively towards his boyfriend.

Jisung visibly flinched, painfully reminding him of the vision he’d seen of Jisung while under the influence of the sins.

“Go away…” Jisung’s voice was hoarse, quiet and barely a whisper, but the words were like a dagger to the heart.

“Baby, it’s me,” Minho stepped closer again. “It’s Minho, and the guys are here too. We came to get you out of here.”

Jisung didn’t even look at them. “Leave.”

The dagger twisted in Minho’s heart. Why didn’t Jisung want them there? Wasn’t he happy to see them? Didn’t he want to escape? It didn’t make any sense.

Minho shakes his head, deciding to fully approach the younger boy, and as he does, Jisung finally turns over, and Minho swore it was like looking at a corpse. His face was gaunt, skin pale and sickly, but his eyes were the worst part, all life completely void, sucked dry, as though Jisung were still living, but no longer really alive inside. It made Minho’s chest tighten painfully, a sob caught in the back of his throat as he gazed at the boy who owned his heart.

“Oh baby,” Minho breathed, kneeling in front of his boyfriend, “what did they do to you?”

Minho gently reached towards him, hoping to provide some sort of comfort to the boy who had quite literally been through hell, but his hand was quickly swatted away by the younger, his head shaking frantically and eyes blowing wide, like that of a cornered animal.

“You’re not real,” Jisung accused, staring at Minho with those lifeless eyes. “You’re not real. Just go away, leave me alone.”

Minho’s heart shattered at the words. It was no longer a dagger twisting in his heart, but a glowing hot, serrated sword.

“Baby, Jisungie, it is me,” Minho tried to convince him softly. “It’s me, it’s Min. I.. we came all the way here to find you-”

_ “You’re not real!”  _ Jisung’s cry came out as a shriek of pain, tears falling down his sunken cheeks as clear agony began to swirl in his eyes, and Minho wanted nothing but to erase that pain entirely.

“I am real,” Minho reassured, fighting his own tears now. “I’m right here, this is really me, look, see? I can touch you.” Minho had raised up his hands, attempting to show that he wasn’t some vision or hallucination, before reaching forward again to Jisung’s hand.

Minho watched the panic rise in Jisung’s eyes, the younger shouting in fear, “Don’t touch me!” Jisung began to scoot away from Minho, backing into the corner as he began to cry harder. “Don’t touch me! You’re not real, I don’t want you to touch me!”

Minho was at a complete loss for words, and he glanced back at the others who had moved further inside, but let him and Jisung have their space. Their faces each mirrored how Minho felt: confused and a bit helpless. None of them knew what to say, or how to get through to Jisung.

“You’re dead, I saw you die…” Jisung spoke again, voice shaky from the sobs he was fighting to hold back. “Over and over and over again. I got you killed. And now you're all haunting me, forever and ever and ever.” Jisung wiped away some tears as he leaned against the stone wall at his back. “Please just kill me,” he pleaded. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t take it, I can’t keep seeing you, and getting my hopes up only for it to be ripped from me again. I won’t. You aren’t real.”

Minho never imagined he’d witness the boy he loved to be begging for death, crying and afraid, in such unbelievable mental and physical agony that he thought his only relief would come from dying, but the words were heartbreaking to hear, making more tears trail down his face. Minho realized that the devil that took Jisung’s soul had been toying with him for who knows how long, had made him believe that he and the others were dead. He had made Jisung see visions and hallucinations of them arriving to save him, on repeat, only for it to every time turn out to not be real. The mere thought of being played with in such a cruel way made Minho feel helpless; he didn’t think he’d be remotely okay if he’d been put through the same thing. Jisung was completely broken, his soul shattered and hopeless.

How was Minho supposed to fix this? He didn’t dare try to force Jisung to leave with him, fearing that it would only break his boyfriend even further, perhaps even beyond repair, but he couldn’t leave him either. Jisung had to leave with them of his own volition, but how could Minho break through that mindset that had been drilled into his head, convincing his boyfriend he was really there, that he wasn’t going to disappear again? Was it even possible? For a moment, Minho became afraid that Jisung would never be himself again, that the damage was too scarring to ever heal. Would Minho ever see him smile again, hear his laugh, be able to kiss him and hold close like before? Would Jisung be able to heal at all?

Minho took a shaking breath, forcing the thoughts away. What Jisung had been through, Minho knew that it would always be a scar on his boyfriend’s soul, that there would be immense aftermath from such a trauma, but he had to hope, had to believe that there was hope. He could’ve prevented this from happening, and because he didn’t, he would spend the rest of his life making up for it. He would be there, do anything he could to help Jisung find normalcy again. Minho would dedicate his entire heart and soul to being Jisung’s anchor, helping him heal and find his light again. Jisung would be able to be happy again, Minho would make damn sure of it.

He just had to bring Jisung home, hell or high water.

“Remember that day, after our one month anniversary date, when we went walking in the park and we saw the most beautiful sunset that either of us had ever seen?” Minho asked, wiping the tears from his eyes. “We sat on the grass and watched it, and you said that I looked like I wanted to say something, but I told you I would tell you another time.” He had Jisung’s attention again, the younger’s eyes watching Minho with a mix of confusion and apprehension. “Well, I wrote it down and sort of memorized it, and I was saving it for a day when it felt right to use, but I think right now is when I was meant to use it.” Minho paused, locking eyes with Jisung for a moment. He felt vulnerable, but he knew that that was what Jisung needed. Jisung needed truth, vulnerability, compassion. He needed to see that Minho was real and pouring his heart out for him, because that might be the only thing that would get through to him. 

“Looking at that sunset,” the older continued softly, not breaking eye contact, “with you by my side, watching the gradient of pink and orange, the crisp, soft, and welcoming sunlight hugged by the clouds, the breeze letting the autumn leaves descend from the treetops… It was such an underappreciated, naturally beautiful enigma. I couldn’t, and still can’t, think of a better way to represent how beautiful you are to me.” Jisung continued to watch him with wide eyes, and Minho swore he could see the faintest bit of a spark returning to them. “We neglect to recognize the light, warmth, and love that a sunset provides, something that is unique in the world each day. And you, Jisung, give that warmth and love, each day, to me, and I am incredibly lucky and forever thankful to have something so special in my life, like you.”

Minho decided to take a risk, and reached for Jisung’s hands, the younger relenting and letting Minho hold them gently in his. “I love you, Han Jisung, more than anything in the world, so much that it scares me sometimes. You are my sun, my moon, and all the stars in the sky, my entire universe.” Minho moved his hands upward, carefully holding his boyfriend’s face. “I would die without you, and if this isn’t enough to convince you that I’m real, that this is really me in front of you, and you won’t come with me back to our world, to our home, then I’ll stay here with you instead, so you don’t have to spend another minute alone in this godforsaken place, so you know that I am here and I am never, ever leaving you.”

Fresh tears trailed down Jisung’s face, running over Minho’s warm touch against his skin. Minho saw the turmoil raging in his mind through Jisung’s eyes, saw the pain and uncertainty finally surfacing in place of the lifeless, dead eyes he had seen before, and though it wasn’t exactly the kind of emotions he wanted to see, it was miles better than nothing at all. Minho brushed a thumb over Jisung’s cheekbone, wiping away another tear.

Tentatively, Jisung brought his hand up, holding Minho’s touch to his face as he stared at him. “Is… is it really you?” he whispered softly.

Minho nodded with a small smile, and Jisung immediately began to cry harder at the sight, falling into Minho’s arms as he sobbed into the older’s hoodie, fists weakly gripping the fabric in a desperate attempt to make sure he couldn’t leave him again. Minho wasted no time in wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s frail figure, a hand reaching up to comb through his tangled hair while the other rubbed soothing circles in his side. Tears of his own began to trail down Minho’s face again, burying his face into Jisung’s hair as a form of comfort to remind himself that it was real and whispering calmly to the younger boy to help soothe him.

“It’s okay baby, it’s alright. I’m not leaving you, I promise,” Minho spoke softly through his own tears. “You’re safe now, no one will ever hurt you again.”

Suddenly, Jisung pulled back, a look of desperation crossing the younger’s face before immediately leaning forward, closing the distance between the two and capturing Minho’s lips in a tearful kiss. Minho was shocked momentarily, before kissing back carefully, heart swelling with love and protectiveness. He knew Jisung could feel it, that this was his way of knowing for certain that Minho was real. No hallucination or vision from a devil could replicate the love Minho held for the boy in his arms.

Minho is the first to pull back, faces hovering close together as Minho smiled lovingly at Jisung. The younger’s eyes were still dark with pain, but there was the slightest spark there now, one that Minho hoped he would be able to fully bring back to life in time. Minho brushed some hair back from Jisung’s face.

After a moment, Jisung’s gaze finally wandered to the people who had taken to kneeling behind Minho, watching their reunited friends fondly, and smiled thinly at them.

“You’re all here…” Jisung whispered in surprise.

“Of course we are,” Chan reassured, moving forward so he could pat Jisung on the shoulder. “You’re family to us, we couldn’t just leave you here.”

“How did you even find me?”

Minho almost froze at the question, but Jeongin quickly jumped in to rescue him. “I found out I’m psychic,” Jeongin responded with a wide smile. “Once you went missing I was able to determine where you’d gone, and we tracked down your last known location on your phone to that elevator.”

“Once I went missing…?” Jisung voiced in confusion. “How long have I been gone?”

“It’s still the same day you left when we took the elevator,” Minho responded. “You were probably only about a few hours ahead of us.”

“How long has it been for you?” Felix asked.

Jisung looked down at his hands. “I stopped counting after two years.”

Minho pulled him into a hug again, feeling the younger shake slightly in his hold. “You’re freezing, aren’t you?” Minho asked, noticing how icy cold his boyfriend’s skin felt to the touch.

Jisung nodded. “It’s okay though, I don’t really notice it anymore.”

Minho relinquished his hold on the younger, pulling off his hoodie and pushing it into Jisung’s hands. He immediately felt the chilled air nip at his exposed arms, the t-shirt not enough to ward it off, but he didn’t care.

“What? No, Min, I can’t-” Jisung began to protest before being shushed by Minho’s finger pressed to his lips.

“Put it on. It’ll help warm you up.”

Jisung reluctantly obliged, and once it was on, Minho had to resist the urge to coo at how Jisung was practically swimming in the fabric around him.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” came Seungmin’s voice from the doorway where he had been keeping watch for the group, “but I hear voices coming from down the hall. We need to go.”

Jisung’s eyes widened as Minho immediately scooped him up in his arms, standing with ease as the group prepared for their escape. Minho nodded reassuringly to Jisung before placing a fond kiss on his forehead. “We’re taking you home, baby.”


End file.
